Pop quiz, hotshot: It’s 11 a.m., you have a righteous hangover, and you’re on the set of a hardcore pornographic film that you’re about to star in. The director hands you a t-shirt that says “Canada” on it, mumbles something about garter snakes, and then gets a page on his beeper and storms off to go return the call on his “car phone.” If time were on your side you’d be at home right now, doing lines of blow and leisurely shaving your balls, but the schedule says you need to actively fucking by 12 o’clock sharp, and not only have you not seen a script yet, but you haven’t even eaten BREAKFAST, and everyone on the set knows it’ll be a cold day in the San Fernando Valley before your dick’s gonna get hard without a plateful of scrambled eggs and some black coffee to charge the ol’ meat battery.

But you don’t have time to worry about that, because now the camera is rolling and some Hungarian girl who barely speaks English is staring at you, waiting for you to say something. You welcome her to America, then remember that your shirt says “Canada” on it, but justify it to yourself by thinking, “I meant ‘America’ like ‘North America.’ You know… like… the continent.” Next thing you know she’s smelling some leaves because, hey, that’s what you do when you’re trying to get your bearings in a strange new country, but then all of the sudden she’s screaming and you’re wrestling a giant rubber snake on the ground, thinking to yourself, “Whatever - beats the 10 p.m. - 5 a.m. shift at The Nutbush.” Then the snake slithers away, the cameraman yells “CUT!” and you have just enough time to chew some aspirin before you have to start having sexual intercourse with a Hungarian girl who has jewelry stashed inside of vagina.

Moments later you remember why you got into this business in the first place. Then you go home, do a few lines of cocaine, shave your balls and think to yourself, “It’s a living.”

Dear FatMan27183141,

Based on your 71 YouTube videos, your YouTube profile name, and your website URL, fat-man.us, I’m starting to get the idea that being fat is your “thing.” I don’t think you need to be ashamed of your size, FatMan27183141, but I’d like to take a moment to talk about this particular video and what it says about you.

I’m not gonna lie - you’re clearly overweight. Your gut is huge, your breathing sounds labored, and you’re probably at risk for all sorts of weird health problems I’ve never even heard of, but let’s face it - your belly hasn’t “come alive” and it doesn’t have any interest in “eating directly.” That’s just your way of saying “I drew a face on my unbelievably fat torso - here’s a video of me shoving potato chips into my own belly button.” That’s entertaining, FatMan27183141, but at the end of the day do you really feel like you’re living up to your full potential?

Chris Farley. Late-career Elvis. The McCrary Twins. These were men that transcended their fat and rose to greatness. Did they deny being fat? No. Did they try to sweep their fat under the rug and pretend it wasn’t there? No. These were men who CELEBRATED their fat, but always to some sort of greater end, and never just for the sake of fat itself.

Chris Farley would put on a tiny, ill-fitting suit, sweat profusely in it and then fling himself through a coffee table. Why? To make America laugh. Late-career Elvis would put on a form-fitting rhinestone-encrusted jumpsuit and sing his heart out. Why? Because people loved to hear him sing. The McCrary Twins? Sure they were fat, but more importantly, they rode side-by-side on tiny matching motorcycles to comedic effect.

Making a YouTube video of yourself being fat and smashing potato chips all over your gut? That’s easy. If Farley, Elvis, or either of the McCrary Twins were alive today they could probably do it, too, but WOULD they? No. Wanna know why? Because they all knew something that you clearly haven’t figured out yet: sometimes just being fat isn’t enough. Next time you make a YouTube video, we’ll be expecting you to either hurl yourself through a coffee table, sing a song about Las Vegas, or ride around on a tiny motorcycle.

The world is watching, FatMan27183141. Get on it.

Sincerely,
Ross Wolinsky
Cracked.com

Chris Crocker Is The Bomb!

Hey guys! It’s me - Michael Swaim! By the time you’re reading this I may or may not be on the front page of Digg with my new and hilarious Those Aren’t Muskets! sketch, but you know what? I don’t really give a shit about that right now.

I know what you’re thinking: “But Michael, you and your amazing sketch comedy group Those Aren’t Muskets! put your heart and soul into that video! After all that hard work and dedication, how can you sit there and say you don’t care about it?” I appreciate your sentiments, reader, but I can’t deny it: This Chris Crocker video has me completely captivated. I can stop watching it for brief periods of time, but I can’t stop thinking about it to save my life.

As you all know, I’m Michael Swaim. Being Michael Swaim means lots of things, but first and foremost, being Michael Swaim means hanging on Chris Crocker’s every word. What can I say? I love Chris Crocker and I love his videos. They’re just so… honest, you know? If you love me, Michael Swaim (and you know that you do), you know that I love Chris Crocker. Considering that, you probably aren’t surprised that I’m posting this video for today’s 9AMer (PST). There’s just not a whole lot to be surprised about here: I love Chris Crocker, I love posting videos at 9AM (PST), and I’m Michael Swaim. It all adds up, right?

I also love poop, balls, poopie balls, and rubbing my balls in poop. Me - Michael Swaim. These are the things I love.

But don’t forget Chris Crocker! As much as I love getting my balls all poopie, I think I might actually love Chris Crocker even more! Isn’t it great that he turned down all that money and fame so he can continue to say “fuck” on YouTube? Chris Crocker keeps it real! He’ll turn down a fat paycheck just to tell it like it is (with profanity)! That’s why I love Chris Crocker… almost as much as I love getting my balls all poopie!

Let me be clear here: If there’s two things in this world that I love as Michael Swaim (which is who I am), it’s a) the physical act of getting my balls all covered in poop and b) watching Chris Crocker videos.

Arrrgh! Don’t make me pick a favorite!

When not blogging for Cracked, Michael Swaim enjoys watching Chris Crocker videos, getting his balls all poopie, and being the actual, real-life Michael Swaim (which is who he is)

Carson City Council Smack

This is exactly why I stopped going to city council meetings. Everything is going along just fine, you’re sitting there minding your own business listening to a deposition, and then BAM - some old lady taps you gently on the back of the head with a handful of papers. You’re momentarily stunned, possibly in shock, but then it wears off a few seconds later and you suddenly realize how much pain you’re in. That’s when you let out an ear-splitting shriek, grab the armrest and gingerly hurl yourself to the floor. That’s why I stopped going to city council meetings - because that kept happening to me ALL THE TIME.

These days I spend most of my days at the city treasurer’s office. Things are a lot quieter there, and they have a handful of outdated general interest magazines in the lobby, so I get a lot of reading done, too. It might not be the most exciting way to while away the day, but at least it’s not, you know, DANGEROUS. Not like those city council meetings in Carson, California.

In case you were wondering, the “assailant” in this video is a woman named Vera Robles DeWitt. She’s a former mayor of Carson herself, and based on her website - which features a screenshot from the video right there on the main page, not to mention a whole press section (I’m apparently the last person to see this video) - I can only assume that she wants people to watch this clip. Probably to help clear her name of the (no joke) misdemeanor battery charges that were filed against her. You know - for gently tapping that woman on the back of the head with a handful of papers.

I guess the moral of the story is “Fuck Carson, California.”

Girl’s Mom Is A Stupid Fucking Idiot

You know what is the absolute worst? When your stupid fucking mom gives you your brand new Lexus ON THE WRONG DAY. Seriously. How hard is it to get that right, mom? Buy me the Lexus, throw me the party, then give me the Lexus ON THE DAY OF THE PARTY. Do I have to write it down for you? Christ.

That’s why I don’t understand why this video is titled “Spoiled Girl Cries Over Getting A Lexus.” The problem isn’t that she’s spoiled; it’s that her STUPID FUCKING IDIOT of a mother can’t get the timing right.

You only turn 15 once. Most people get married more than once these days, so in a way, a 15th birthday is more special than a wedding. Considering that, I think it’s totally understandable that this girl would want it to be absolutely perfect, and what could make your party more perfect than receiving a $60,000 gift that you aren’t legally allowed to drive yet? It WOULD’VE been perfect, I guess… you know, if mom hadn’t gone and fucked everything up. When you see shitty parenting like that it’s just about enough to make you puke.

So when you read YouTube comments that say things like:

“Fucking. Stupid. Whore. I would fuck her up.” - Suprcassanova

“I hope she gets pregnant.” - RIShearer1985

Just remember that they’re all misdirected. And if you’re a 15 year old girl who cries when you receive a luxury car for your birthday, think about this video, reassure yourself that your mom is a total bitch who wants to ruin your life, then tell her you hate her and cry your little eyes out. You earned it, little princess!

Man Walking Into Glass (An Oldie But Goodie)

Back in the not-so-distant past, it was possible for someone to casually walk away after smashing their face into a plate glass window. Maybe a few people saw you do it, but once you got in your car and drove away that was pretty much the end of the story. For the most part, an embarrassing moment like that stayed between you, the plate of glass, and maybe the guy who corrals the shopping carts. It was a simpler time and we liked it that way.

But that was the not-so-distant past, and this is the not-at-all-distant present: one teeming with surveillance cameras in every public nook and cranny. In this crazy, futuristic dystopia, if you walk into a plate glass window and smash your face, there’s a pretty good chance that it’s going to be captured on camera, and if you get caught on camera smashing your face into a plate glass window, there’s a pretty good chance that it’s going to end up on YouTube. Bad news for you, the person whose face just got smashed, but for the rest of us here on the internet it’s nothing short of a blessing.

I feel bad for this guy to a certain extent. I’m sure that smashing his face on that plate glass window hurt like hell, and having thousands of people laughing at him probaby isn’t helping matters either, but at some point doesn’t our laughter make up for his pain? After a few thousand people have laughed at him on YouTube, doesn’t that outweigh his one moment of agonizing face-pain?

If I’m wrong we’re just laughing at other peoples’ misfortunes, but if I’m right? If I’m right we’re improving the net amount of happiness in the world by watching this guy smash his face on a plate glass window. Let me put it another way: We’re basically saving the world the world right now. Pat yourself on the back.

Santo Gold Infomercial

I don’t even know where to start with this one. Big shoutout to The Virtual Santo Gold Museum for gathering all the great information that I’ve liberally paraphrased below.

Back in the 1980s, a successful businessman named Santo Rigatuso decided to create a film. Through his “Santo Gold” mail-order fake jewelry business, Santo had racked up a considerable amount of cash - more than enough to fund his first feature film. The result? Blood Circus, a “science-fiction wrestling movie” featuring cannibals, washed-up professional wrestlers, aliens from the planet Zoran and, naturally, lots of Santo Gold mail-order jewelry.

Strangely enough, Santo had a hard time finding distribution for his creative masterpiece. His solution? Promote it through his Santo Gold infomercials and rent out a few theaters in Baltimore to show it in. Sadly, only three people showed up for the premiere - not quite enough to make up for the film’s $2 million budget. Perhaps out of desperation, Santo moved on to crazier money-making schemes: selling credit cards to people with bad credit for $49.95 (redeemable only for Santo Gold merchandise), and offering $2000 blocks of an unnamed millionaire’s fortune for the low, low price of $52 a pop. The law eventually caught up with Santo and he ended up indicted on twelve counts of mail fraud, and sadly, his film lives on today only in the memories of those (un)fortunate enough to have seen it: there are allegedly no copies remaining in circulation.

You can read more about Santo Rigatuso (that’s him screaming in the white suit and sunglasses FYI), his films, and his legal troubles here. There is also a longer clip from his infomercial available here, and a completely baffling, typo-riddled, barely-functional website promising sundry goods at SantoGold.com. It has pictures of office buildings on it, so I’m pretty sure it’s legit.

Some Idiot Gets Exactly What He Deserves

I’m not trying to make a joke when I say that I love stupid people. They’re way more likeable than smart people, plus they’re always asking really simple questions that I know the answers to. I’m no rocket scientist myself, but if you’re going to hang out with me, I humbly ask that you be A) moderately attractive, and B) dumb as rocks. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship: I get to feel good about myself for helping you out, and you get to find out what burritos are. It works out for everyone.

That being said, I’m pretty sure I’d get along great with this guy. And you know what? It’d be for the best. He’d say, “Hey Ross - I think I’m gonna pull that palm tree down with my truck,” and I’d say, “Which one? The huge one in your yard?” and he’d say, “Yeah, that one.” Then I’d say, “How?” and he’d say, “With a cable,” and I’d say, “Oh. Yeah, that sounds like a good way to do it,” because I don’t really know anything about pulling down giant palm trees. Then I’d say, “Whoa, dude - are you okay?” and he’d say, “Yeah… why didn’t you tell me not to do that?” and I’d say, “Sorry, dude. I don’t know anything about pulling down giant palm trees.”

We’d probably be pretty hungry by then, so I’d say, “Let’s go get some burritos,” and he’d say “What’s a burrito? I’ve never even heard of those before.” I’d say, “Get in the car - I’ll explain on the way,” but we’d have to take my car because his would be all smashed in.

And a good time would be had by all.

60 Minutes - Magic Mormon Underpants

60 Minutes is generally regarded as one of the most successful shows in the history of television. Reporting on major world events since the heady days of Vietnam and Watergate, the show has won numerous awards for groundbreaking journalism over the years. In 1983, they even managed to free a Texan named Lenell Geter who was wrongly convicted of armed robbery. It’s more than a television show; it’s an American institution.

YAAAAAWN! BORRRRR-ING!

Thank God they left that all behind at some point and decided to focus on something that matters: dumbing down their program in the pursuit of ratings. From the perspective of a Cracked blogger, this was a real blessing. You know what’s not really all that hilarious? The Vietnam War, Watergate and wrongful incarceration¹. You know what IS hilarious? The phrase “sacred undergarments.” Say what you will about credibility, dignity and journalistic integrity, but can any of those things really hold a candle to hearing a grown man say “sacred undergarments” repeatedly in a would-be serious tone?

Ordinarily this is the part where I’d go off about how Mormons are stupid and sacred undergarments are ridiculous, but as someone who gets into horrific boating accidents on a nearly constant basis, I’d really like to get my hands on a pair of those suckers. I can think of worse things than getting the occasional compliment in the locker room, too. I honestly can’t remember the last time someone turned to me and said, “Hey, Ross - neat undergarments!” That makes me sad.

Maybe those Mormons are on to something. They sure seem to smile a lot, don’t they?

¹ Despite being on the air for 40 years, for the sake of this blog post those are the only three things that 60 Minutes has ever reported on.

Another Message For Senator Barack Obama Bin Laden

A while back I posted a trailer for a then-upcoming Paris Hilton vehicle called The Hottie And The Nottie. In the post I made the following bold assertion:

“I think The Hottie and the Nottie is going to turn out to be one of the great love stories of our time.” - Ross Wolinsky

It turns out I blew it: Shockingly, the film has been almost universally reviled by critics and audiences alike since its release! During its opening weekend, Hottie pulled in a whopping $27,696 at 111 locations. Depending on how you want to look at it that’s $249 per screen or, figuring an average of $8 per ticket, about 3,462 total paying customers in all of America… which is actually kind of a staggering number if you really think about it. It might not sound like much for a nationally distributed feature film on its opening weekend, but it’s still enough people to fill a medium-sized high school gymnasium. Doesn’t that seem like way too many? How did 3,462 Americans somehow come to the conclusion that Hottie was going to be worth seeing? Who are these people that plopped down their hard-earned cash at the ticket counter and said “One for Hottie,” and what in the name of God were they thinking?

You might be wondering what the woman in today’s video has to do with The Hottie And The Nottie. Not a whole lot, to be honest, but they do share one trait that I think bears mentioning: She, like the film, is completely fucking retarded.